


Making Memories

by CoffeeKristin



Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8595139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeKristin/pseuds/CoffeeKristin
Summary: Jonny's gonna make sure Patrick's 28th birthday is one he never forgets.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Schmoop and nonsense and fluff, written in honor of Patrick's 28th birthday. I just realized that it was one year ago that we had a birthday bonanza and while I failed to put something similar together again, it felt important not to let the day go by without writing something. So here's something, written in a few hours, unbeta'd and hopefully not shit, lol.

Patrick’s birthday isn’t a big deal. It hasn’t been a big deal for years. He’s a grown man now, and he’s celebrated it on the road, with his teammates, away from his family since he was, like, fourteen. And it’s always been fine. It’s even been great; he doesn’t ever remember having a bad birthday. Then again, he doesn’t really remember much about any of his birthdays. Which hasn’t ever really bothered him. He never thinks about it.

So having his birthday on the road isn’t a big deal.

When he wakes up in another anonymous Canadian hotel room, a year older, it’s still not a big deal. He stumbles into the too-bright bathroom, blinking at himself in the mirror. He can see how tired he is, the skin under his eyes dark and pinched. His hairline is increasingly distressing and even the curls that fill out the top and back aren’t enough to disguise how much more of his forehead is visible than it was last year.

Patrick sighs, long and low. He’s twenty eight. Two years closer to thirty. Two years closer to being old. “I’m starting to get old,” he grumps softly.

“You’re not old,” Jonny calls from the bedroom. “Stop mooning at yourself in the mirror and get back in here.”

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Patrick calls back snippily but he does turn away from the mirror after he splashes some water on his face. He doesn’t dry his hands, instead grabbing Jonny and pulling him close once he’s back under the covers.

“Ah, Jesus that’s cold, fuck,” Jonny bitches, wriggling a little as Patrick spreads his wet hands all over his back. “Dick.”

“Mmm hmm,” Patrick smirks, thrusting against Jonny’s naked hip. “That is my dick, Jon, yes.” Jonny scoffs but pulls him closer, and Patrick goes easily, settling his head on Jonny’s shoulder and letting himself be manhandled into a more comfortable position.

Jonny’s naked  --  they both are  --  and Patrick sinks into the heat of Jonny’s skin, letting it permeate the chill that he’d acquired in his five minute sojourn to the bathroom. Once Jonny has him where he wants him, they lay there, quiet except for the sound of Jonny’s breathing.

“Happy birthday,” Jonny says into the quiet, hugging Patrick a little closer.

“Thanks,” Patrick says with a long sigh.

“Wow, this birthday’s really getting to you.”

“Yeah, it’s just  --  I’m getting old, but I don’t feel like I’m growing up, you know?” Patrick shrugs, rubbing his cheek against Jonny’s collarbone. “I mean, I’m not married, I don’t have kids. Hell, I don’t even own a proper house anymore.”

“But  --  “

“I mean, my dad was twenty-eight when I was born, and I just feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m falling behind or something. I look in the mirror and I see an old guy, but other than a few less hairs on top of my head  --  “

“A few,” Jonny scoffs.  

“A _few_ ,” Patrick continues, “I don’t feel any more grown up than when we were rookies. Hell, I’m even still waking up on my birthday in a random hotel room with you, just like when I turned nineteen and twenty and twenty one and  --  “

“I get it, I get it,” Jonny interrupts. “Does that, I mean. Do you wish you weren’t spending your birthday morning with me?” He speaks carefully, his body tensed.

“God, no, Jonny, babe, no. That’s the best part of my birthday.” Patrick surges up and kisses Jonny, hard enough that Jonny makes a noise of protest and angles his mouth a little to ease the pressure. Patrick pulls back and looks at him. Jonny looks unsure and a little upset, and God, Patrick can’t bear to see how he’s made Jonny insecure. “Seriously, Jon. You’re everything I could’ve ever imagined wanting and you’re always the best part of my birthday.” He kisses Jonny again, more gently. “And you have been since the day I turned nineteen. You know that.”

“I  --  “ Jonny fidgets a little, then pulls Patrick back down to his side, tucking him up under his arm again. “I know your birthdays haven’t been that special since we’re always on the road.”

“It’s fine,” Patrick says. “Who cares that I couldn’t tell you if we spent my birthday in Edmonton or Winterpeg last year?”

“It was Calgary,” Jonny says, frowning.

“Or if we’re in Vancouver or Calgary today  --  “

“Vancouver,” Jonny says.

“Or if it was Winnipeg the year before that --  “

“It’s never Winnipeg,” Jonny grouses. “To my mother’s never-ending annoyance. Is it so much to ask that one year she could make you your birthday dinner on your actual birthday?”

“Poor Andrée,” Patrick huffs out a laugh. “Anyway, I know we’ve spent them all in some Canadian hotel room or another, together, and I don’t care that I can’t tell you which hotel or which city, because the most important thing is that I’ve spent them all here.” He taps Jonny’s chest. “In your arms.”

“Except when you turned twenty four,” Jonny says consideringly. “That year you were in Switzerland. With Seguin,” he says snidely.

“Jonny!” Patrick snaps. “Stop trying to remember all of my stupid birthday and focus on what I’m saying!”

“Sorry, I just  --  I wish you had more to remember them by,” Jonny says softly. “That I’d made them more memorable, at least.”

“You did, babe, it’s just  --  you know what? Ignore me.” Patrick rests his chin on Jonny’s sternum, meeting his eyes. “I’m being stupid and maudlin. Is this what it feels like when you get old?” He blinks at Jonny innocently.

“Why are you asking me? I’m only six months older than you, asshole.” Jonny’s smiling again, though, and Patrick digs his chin into Jonny’s chest a little, making Jonny flinch and push at his face. “Ouch, man, cut it out, your chin is so fucking bony.”

Patrick settles back, idly tracing patterns over Jonny’s chest, lost in his own thoughts until he notices that Jonny’s tensing up underneath him.

After a few minutes of Jonny shifting and clearing his throat, Patrick groans. “Out with it, Jonny. What’s got you so jumpy this morning?”

“Nothing, just…” Jonny trails off, and Patrick sees red.

“Jesus fuck,” he snaps, pinching Jonny’s side. It’s his birthday, he’s officially old and tired and in Winterpeg or Vancouver or Calgary or Edmonton and he really doesn’t want to have to gently pry whatever’s bugging Jonny out of him. “What the hell, Jon, whatever it is, it can’t be worth you getting all worked up like this.”

“Yeah, because I’m the one who’s worked up,” Jonny scoffs but he looks guilty and unsure, and doesn’t say anything else.

“Oh my God, is it  --  are you hurt? Is it your head again? Is that  --  “ Patrick can’t catch his breath and he wiggles in Jonny’s arms, but Jonny just holds on more tightly, not letting him up.

“No, it’s not a bad thing, Pat! It’s not! I’m just  --  I need to say it right, okay?” Jonny sighs. “Just trying to find the words. Fuck.”

“Are you sure?” Patrick looks up to meet Jonny’s eyes. He’s smiling at Patrick softly, fondly, through his unease, and that makes something relax in Patrick. “You’re sure you’re not hurt, though, right?”

“I’m not hurt,” Jonny confirms quickly. “Promise. I just...”

“What?”

“It’s just  --  you know, right?”

“I… know what?” Patrick shakes his head, exasperated. “Clearly I don’t or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Use your words. In actual sentences.”

“Yeah,” Jonny says, nudging his forehead against Patrick’s and kissing him chastely. “I don’t know why this is so hard.” He swallows audibly and kisses him again. “I -- “

“Yeah?” Patrick holds his breath because he recognizes this  --  this is Jonny struggling to deal with emotions, overwhelmed and out of his depth, and Patrick usually steps in, usually helps him work through whatever it is that’s scaring Jonny. But it’s been a long time since Jonny was this bottled up and Patrick’s completely lost as to why. “Jonny  --  “

“You know I love you, Pat? You know  --  you know what you mean to me, right? You’re just  --  you’re everything to me. You make me happy and I always want to be with you and today, of all days, I hope you know how much being with you, being  _yours_  means to me.”

“Jonny,” Patrick swallows. “I  --  “

“But it’s not enough,” Jonny goes on quickly, his voice cracking. Patrick’s stomach drops. “It’s not enough anymore.”

“What? I don’t  --  “

“I want more,” Jonny continues, his eyes searching Patrick’s. “I need more.”

“Are you breaking up with me on my birthday?” Patrick tries to pull away and Jonny’s arms tighten again.

“God, no, I’m  --  of course I’m not!” Jonny kisses Patrick hard, pulling back and looking him in the eye. “I’m saying the opposite.” He keeps looking at Patrick like he’s willing Patrick to understand, but Patrick’s completely lost.

“The opposite? Jesus, Jon, just say it, whatever it is! You’re killing me, here!”

“I want you to marry me!” Jonny explodes, then drops back against the pillows, his eyes closed. “Fuck.”

“You  --  you what?” Patrick freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

Jonny opens one eye. “I want you to marry me?”

“You want  --  are you proposing?” Patrick asks, his voice breaking a little. His head is spinning and he’s not sure if he’s really processing what Jonny’s saying.

“Yes?” Jonny says, then clears his throat, watching him carefully. “I mean. Yes. Yes, I’m asking you to marry me.”

“Oh my God,” Patrick breathes. “You want to get married?”

“That’s generally what it means when someone proposes,” Jonny says, his tone pissy, and underneath, even more uncertain.

“Yeah, but  --  you actually want to get married to me?” Patrick clarifies.

“No, Patrick, I want to marry the other guy I’m dating.” Jonny rolls his eyes.

“Jonny, you don’t mention other guys when you propose,” Patrick frowns. “Everyone knows that.”

“Excuse me, I’m kinda new to this whole proposing thing. But I’ll keep it in mind for the next time I propose to someone,” Jonny grumbles.

“What the hell, you’re not proposing to someone else,” Patrick snaps. “Ever.”

“I fucking hope not,” Jonny says under his breath, then louder, “Pat, can you just answer the question, because you. Are. Killing. Me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick says. “I mean, of course I’ll marry you, Jonny.”

“You  --  “ Jonny gapes at him for a moment, his mouth opening and closing. “You  --  really?“  

“Did you seriously think I wasn’t going to say yes?” Patrick laughs at the outraged expression on Jonny’s face. “Like, haven’t you been paying attention? I’m nuts about you, Jonny. Head-over-heels crazy in love with you. Since I was, fuck. Seventeen years old. Hell, maybe since I was thirteen and we played in all those tournaments in Toronto. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

“Oh,” Jonny says, his mouth open again.

“Yeah, _’Oh,’_ ” Patrick mocks. “Like you didn’t know that.”

“I did, I just… It’s really good to hear you say it.” Jonny swallows. “So we’re doing this?”

“Duh,” Patrick says, knocking his forehead gently against Jonny’s. “Of course we’re doing this.”

“Cool,” Jonny breathes against Patrick’s mouth.

“Cool,” Patrick echoes with a snicker, and Jonny huffs and kisses him more deeply, his tongue licking into Patrick’s mouth and stealing his breath.

Minutes later, when they’re both panting, Jonny pulls back. “And you’re not getting old.”

“Ugh, why’d you have to remind me,” Patrick moans, throwing himself back against the pillow and covering his face with one arm. Jonny slides on top of him and pulls until Patrick lets go. He refuses to open his eyes.

“Babe,” Jonny says, shaking his arm until Patrick finally relents and opens his eyes. “You’re twenty-eight, not eighty-eight.” He smirks. “Although as much as you like that number…”

“Ha ha, so funny,” Patrick makes a face. “Whatever. I know age is just a number, and this is just another birthday, but…”

“Shut up, today’s not just another birthday,” Jonny says. “Maybe getting engaged will help you remember this birthday, huh?”

“Oh, is that your grand plan?”

“Maybe,” Jonny says, grinning. “ _Vancouver, November 19, 2016. Dear Diary, today Jonny proposed and I said yes --_  “

Patrick grabs his pillow and smothers the rest of Jonny’s words. He pulls it back and Jonny’s smiling, his face red and his hair sticking straight up. He’s so gorgeous, and Patrick can’t help smiling back, his heart aching with how much he loves him.

“What?” Jonny asks when Patrick’s eyes start to well up. “What are those for?”

“Shut up, you know I always cry when I’m really happy.” Patrick leans into Jonny’s hand when he smoothes it over his jaw and thumbs at the corner of his eye, wiping at the wetness underneath.

“Sap,” Jonny says fondly. “Come here.”

“So…” Jonny says a few minutes later when Patrick’s done sniffling and he’s starting to think about moving on to the _”we just got engaged on my birthday!”_  celebratory sex portion of the morning, “think you’ll be able to remember this birthday?”

“Probably,” Patrick allows, giggling when Jonny gasps in affront. “I mean, I don’t know. Maybe there’s one more thing you can do to really cement it in my mind.” He shifts a little against Jonny’s thigh, rubbing his cock into the firm muscle there.

“Hmm, whatever can you mean?” Jonny asks, running his hand down Patrick’s back to the base of his spine, then edging a little lower.

“Well,” Patrick pulls himself on top of him, until they’re lined up from chest to knee. “Let me see if I can jog your memory.”


End file.
